


Three times Richie teased Eddie in public and the one time he got him back

by HisokaTrash



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT (Movies - Muschietti) RPF, IT - Stephen King
Genre: Butt Plugs, Car Sex, Dinner, Domestic Fluff, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier-centric, Eddie is a brat, Game Night, Idiots in Love, Indiana Jones References, Love, M/M, Monopoly (Board Game), Poor Eddie Kaspbrak, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Revenge, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Richie loves him though, Riding, Sex in a Car, Some Fluff, Some Humor, Strip Games, Strip Tease, Stripping, Summer, Teasing, drive in, movie, movies - Freeform, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2020-12-29 02:41:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21131723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisokaTrash/pseuds/HisokaTrash
Summary: Has Eddie been particularly bratty? Maybe. Is Richie going to get him back? Absolutely.Here are three scenarios that Richie constructed to tease Eddie, and the one time Eddie took his own revenge.





	1. Sunshine and Rosé

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I'm really excited about this fic, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.  
This is my first time putting something like this out there, so feedback is much appreciated.  
Keep an eye out on my twitter @kingkaspbrak for updates.  
Thanks!

Was there anything like sunshine filtering through a glass filled with blushing rosé; the sounds of water splashing softly in the background, the laughter of friends, the secret smile of a lover? A carefree summer day, with no concerns but what to drink, where to smoke, and for Eddie, when to reapply sunscreen.

Eddie was laying by the edge of the pool, on his towel, soaking in the sun. Normally he’d be in the pool, hounding Richie about his sunscreen, but he had definitely drank too much rosé and he felt pleasant enough to throw caution to the wind. 

Ben and Beverly were hosting a little gathering for the losers in their summer home, just an excuse to get together, really. It was a casual event, but the good times were rolling and the liquor was flowing and Eddie was having a REALLY hard time not hopping on Richie right then and there. Drunk on the sun and way too much rosé, he felt emboldened and even a little antsy and Richie kept looking over with That look in his eyes, and Eddie’s head was spinning.

He needed more alcohol.

He pushed himself up on one elbow, looking over at the pool and seeing if anyone was close enough to coerce into getting him another drink. Bill and Mike were in the hot tub, chatting over beers. They were at such a practiced ease with each other, the way conversation flowed naturally between them, and Eddie envied it with his whole being. Beverly was sitting at the edge of the pool, close to Eddie, dipping her legs into the water and sharing a cigarette with Richie. The way they shared it, passed back and forth between each other without needing to speak, made Eddie so envious it hurt. Richie caught Eddie watching and smiled lazily, blowing smoke towards him with such casual ease that Eddie couldn’t even be mad. 

His fingers dug into the meat of his thigh, trying to distract himself from the sheer beauty of Richie fucking Tozier. It hurt. Oh, it hurt bad. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from watching. The way Richie’s lips wrapped around the cigarette, the way it dangled from his fingertips as he handed it to Beverly, how he pursed his lips and blew the smoke out, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You’re staring, Eds,” Richie hummed, his voice rough from the smoke. “Like whatcha see?”

Eddie felt his skin warm, and not from the sun. He flipped Richie the bird, and looked in the other direction. Ben was on the pool deck, mixing a drink, and Stan was chatting with him. “Hey, Ben!” Eddie yelled. “Bring me something, will ya? Something strong.”

“Strong?” Beverly laughed. “Oh, Eddie, we all know you can’t do strong. You’ll knock yourself out.”

Eddie protested, but didn’t put up much of a fight. Beverly wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t want to admit it. Ben came over with another glass of fucking rosé, and Eddie took it but he wasn’t happy. “Thanks,” he muttered. Ben laughed, and then went to sit with Beverly. Between the angles of their legs, Richie caught Eddie staring again and winked. 

Eddie was starting to wish he had a cigarette, and he never smoked. He downed the rosé and pretended that his face was reddening from the sun. Objectively, it was entirely possible. Also, hey! Ben had a cute laugh. Beverly was teasing him. There were a million reasons, all of them NOT pertaining to Richie fucking Tozier, that could make him blush. 

He felt his gaze wandering, and before something disastrous—like, say, Richie catching him staring again—could happen, he forced himself flat on his back. Closing his eyes, Eddie felt himself pleasantly drifting away to, ironically, thoughts of Richie. Eddie wasn’t a smoker, nor did he support it, but when it came to Richie, he wanted more. It was practiced, graceful, smoother than whiskey. The action was the most attractive thing Eddie had ever witnessed. He wanted, desperately, for Richie to kiss him with practiced ease. To touch him with such grace. Smoothly. Lovingly. 

“Whatcha thinking about, Eds?” Richie whispered. 

Eddie shot up. Hearing Richie’s voice suddenly, and especially after all the fucking rosé, was dizzying. Water dazzled off of his skin. “Richie, I didn’t hear you come over.”

“I know,” Richie grinned. “You were distracted.” He gave Eddie a once-over that was so slow he could physically feel it, and then leaned forward to whisper, “I didn’t realize we were camping, Eds. You’ve got your tent set up and everything.”

Eddie grabbed onto Richie’s forearms, trying to brace himself. Oh, this was mortifying. His poor head was spinning, and Richie had done nothing more than whisper a few words to him. That fucking rosé! He was never, NEVER, drinking again. 

“Oh yeah, you’re all pitched up and raring to go, Boy Scout,” Richie cooed. He slotted his knee in between Eddie’s thighs, and Eddie saw stars. He bit down on the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood, stopping himself from making a sound or stuttering his hips. Trembling fingers dug further into Richie’s forearms. 

“Richie, don’t be coy,” Eddie whispered. “We’re in public right now. Everyone’s watching.”

“No one’s watching,” Richie smirked. “Look, Ben’s trying to convince Beverly to stop smoking  _ again _ , so we know that’ll take awhile. Bill and Mike are talking, and you know how chatty they get. The only other person is Stan, but it’s okay if he watches, right? We like Stanny.”

“Richie, no, we don’t like Stanny watching,” Eddie said, voice tight. “C’mon, don’t be a tease. Can’t you wait?”

“Nope! It’s taking everything I’ve got to stop myself right now. Especially when I can feel how bad you want it. I wish you could see the way you’re looking at me, it’d be a crime against humanity if I didn’t do something to take care of you right now. C’mon, pretty baby, if you don’t want to do it here we can sneak off into Mr. Architect’s luxury bathroom. No one will miss us. I promise I’ll make you cum fast. Five minutes.”

Eddie snorted, and Richie took advantage of his sudden disbelief to hitch his knee higher up. This caused Eddie to yelp, a quick little sound that ended breathlessly. “Fuck you, Tozier. Fuck you.”

Richie watched Eddie’s chest rise and fall faster, felt his fingers dig deep into the muscles of his arms, and couldn’t help but smile lazily. If Eddie wanted to play games—and most of the time he did, because Eddie fucking Kaspbrak was a little shit—then they’d play games. But if there was one thing certain about Richie, it’s that he doesn’t lose. “I’ll stop then. Sorry, Eds, didn’t mean to piss you off. Forgive me?” 

He kissed Eddie’s forehead, and stood up, taking away that delicious friction that Eddie had been barely resisting. “I’m getting a drink. Want some more rosé?”

“Richie, wait,” Eddie said, sitting up and grabbing his hand. He hated being this transparent, because Richie always called him out on it. He squeezed his eyes shut and blurted out, “I didn’t... ask you to leave.”

“You want me to stay?”

“Yeah, dumbass.”

“You want me to keep going?”

“I, uh... are you gonna make me say it? You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you, asshole.”

“Mhm.” The glee in Richie’s eyes was horrific. He got back down on his hands and knees—hands braced by Eddie’s shoulders, one knee slotted between his legs again. He bent down, whispering, “You know me so well, Eds.”

Richie was close enough to feel the shudder run through Eddie’s body, close enough to hear the softest of exhales from his lips. 

“Richie...”

“Oh, my sweet boy. You’re only torturing yourself by doing this. Let me take care of you. Let me take care of my darling boy.”

Eddie’s eyes slid shut. In the darkness, shapes danced across the negative space. He tried to focus on them, but Richie’s presence was a mountain on the horizon—there and unavoidable. Closing his eyes did little save for accentuating the feeling of Richie’s leg sturdily between his thighs, and maximize the feeling of his quiet laughter, vibrating through the very core of his being. He was helpless to resist. 

Richie had been with Eddie long enough to notice the little signs that meant he was done with the fake protesting. He put up a front, but Richie knew how much Eddie loved being debased, especially in public. He also knew that he liked a little prompting, so he didn’t have to feel that it was ONLY his idea—i.e. this game. Richie didn’t mind playing along though; when push came to shove Eddie backed down pretty quickly and became putty in his hands. 

“Okay, okay, please Richie,” Eddie groaned. His hips were circling long and slow, dragging his crotch against Richie’s knee in a stuttering motion. “Please, Richie, oh please.”

“Keep going,” Richie cooed. He hitched his knee up further, relishing the way Eddie’s face scrunched up in pleasure, the breathy little moans he tried so desperately to swallow down. He could be happy just staying like this, watching Eddie take care of himself without helping him. A cursory glance around the backyard showed that everyone else had gone inside, so Richie would’ve been more than happy letting Eddie ride this one out. Plus, he was definitely enjoying the view. 

“Are you gonna sit there with your mouth open like a dumbass or are you actually going to do something?” Eddie asked.

Richie didn’t know when he’d opened his eyes, and he was sad that he missed it, but it certainly didn’t stop him from appreciating the change in view. Eddie’s pupils were blown, his face flushed, his breathing hard and pointed. Richie watched as he swallowed, the bob of his throat, and the desperate little sound that slid out of it when they locked eyes once more. 

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who is literally getting themselves off on my leg,” Richie tutted. “No. I’m not doing anything. Keep going.”

“You asshole, you’re seriously gonna make me get myself off? After convincing me to do this in the first place? Seriously?”

“Yep. I wanted  _ you  _ to give  _ yourself  _ permission,” Richie nodded solemnly. “Also, I can’t help but notice you’re not exactly stopping so...”

“Shut up,” Eddie hissed. The sweet rhythm of his hips was picking up, his soft grunts—oh, and he was trying his damndest to be quiet. What a little brat, if Eddie weren’t so close already he’d make him scream for it—had picked up, taking on that desperate keening sound that meant he was seconds away from falling apart. “If you’re not gonna help me, then just shut up.”

“Shutting up.” Richie leaned down to kiss Eddie’s temple. He was practically purring. It was so rare that he got Eddie to do this to himself, rarer still for it to occur in public, but it was oh so sweet when it did. Eddie had been particularly bratty for the past few days, and Richie had a full-stop plan to get him back. 

This was the first part. 

“Oh, Richie, Richie, I think I’m gonna—!”

The sound of the sliding glass door slamming open startled Eddie enough to shut him up. “Boys? Are you still out here?” Beverly called out, squinting her eyes against the sun. “C'mon, guys, the pizza is here. What’re you... what’re you guys doing?”

Mentally, Richie cheered. Beverly’s timing was spot-on. This might actually work out. 

Eddie flew away from Richie as fast as he could, scrambling for his towel and holding it over his lap. “Nothing. Nothing! We’ll be in soon, Bev!”

“Okay, well hurry up. There might not be anything left for you guys before you’re... done.” 

The door slid shut as Eddie yelled after her, “Done with what?! We aren’t doing ANY—god she left, didn’t she? Fuck. Fuck! This is all your fault, asshole. Now she thinks... well, I don’t even know what she thinks, but it’s your fault!”

Richie snorted. He stood up, and tilted Eddie’s head up with his index finger. “Uh huh. Next you’re gonna say it’s me with that massive boner. That’s all you, babe. Bev didn’t see anything, the sun’s in our direction. She will see that, though. I recommend taking care of it.”

“I’m NOT jerking off in the bathroom, with all of my best friends in the next fucking room, Richie!”

Richie held his hands up defensively, but his lips curled into the lazy smirk that Eddie was quickly growing to hate. “Woah there, cowboy, I don’t remember ever saying that,” he ran his fingers through Eddie’s hair, and then played with the short strands at the base of his skull. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out, though. You’re creative, Eds.”

Eddie shivered again. He hated, truly HATED, how well Richie knew him and his little turn ons. Their size difference being a big one, but also having his hair played with—touch, in general, was a big thing that he knew Richie would use to his advantage. He closed his eyes and rolled his head back into Richie’s grip. “Richie, I think I might hate you.”

Richie laughed. “Oh, yeah. I’m sure you do. It’s coming across super clearly.” He abruptly turned Eddie around, and slapped him resoundly across the ass. “Now go get inside and take care of that before someone notices it. Yah! Giddiup!”

Eddie jumped a bit before jogging inside - pausing only to shoot Richie a venomous look that was all bark and no bite. Richie gave him a solid five minutes before heading inside. 

In the kitchen were several boxes of pizza, mostly torn through, and Eddie was nowhere to be seen. Pleased, he took a slice of hawaiian and plopped onto the couch beside Beverly. 

“Richie, plate,” Ben said, tossing a paper plate over like a frisbee. Richie severely overestimated the catch and it ended up hitting Stan in the face. There was a moment of shocked silence, and then Beverly started giggling, and the rest of them quickly followed.

“That was great,” Bill sighed. “Long live Trashmouth and his terrible hand-eye coordination.”

“Oh, poor Stan,” Beverly stifled some more laughter, and then quickly checked over his face. “Luckily it didn’t cut you or anything, my goodness. Poor baby.”

“Speaking of baby, where is Eddie?” Ben asked, wiggling his eyebrows over at Richie. 

“Oh yeah, where  _ did _ he go?” Mike asked, frowning over his beer. “I thought I saw him coming in earlier, but I guess not. I mean, he isn’t here.”

“Yeah, no fucking duh, Sherlock,” Bill snorted, bumping him with his shoulder. “Thank  _ god _ for Captain Obvious. Whatever would we do without your astute observations?”

“Shut up, Bill,” Mike scowled, swatting his shoulder lightly. There was no real malice in the action, nor any venom in his words, though. It was such a friendly exchange, that Richie suddenly missed his boy.

“Ladies, ladies, I shall retrieve him for us,” Richie said, easing off the couch and collecting the half empty bottle of rosé. “Please, and I beg of you, do not wait up. In fact, play a movie or something. Loudly.” He gave them a wink, and sauntered into the hallway. From the living room came an assortment of hoots and hollers. 

“Richie, no! Gross!” Which sounded like Ben, but Richie could only assume that to mean, Richie Yes! And honestly, who was he to deny the fans what they wanted?

He lightly tapped on the bathroom door. “Eds, it’s me, baby. Need some help?”

The silence emanating from the door was almost physical. He waited for all of a minute before knocking again. “Baby, c’mon. Open the door. I promise I’ll take good care of you.”

“It’s unlocked.”

“It’s  _ unlocked _ ?” Richie demanded, bewildered. He tried the door handle, and it was indeed unlocked. “Eddie, hey, what the actual fuck? What if someone had walked in and - oh.”

Eddie wasn’t doing anything. He was just sitting against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest, with his hands wrung. He looked up at Richie with an expression that slammed into him like a train - desperate, longing, as if the very sight of him was enough to get him going. “Richie, I couldn’t… I couldn’t…”

Richie, himself, felt decimated. This was good. Very good. Actually, one could venture to call it excellent. His plan, which had been poorly thought out but enthusiastically executed, seemed to be working very well. Get Eddie hot and bothered? Check. Get him off in public? Nearly there! But having him sit in the bathroom,  _ stewing in his need, _ knowing he couldn’t just get up and find Richie, but needing him to finish? That was pure poetry.

“Can’t what?” Richie asked innocently. Had Eddie suffered enough? Maybe. But he  _ really _ wanted to push him to the edge. Eddie had been pushing his luck for quite some time now. He quietly shut the door behind him, locking it, and then leaning against it. 

Eddie’s eyes flashed in frustration. Poor thing was so pent up, and Richie’s senseless prodding wasn’t helping. “You know ‘what’, Richie. Don’t tease me, I seriously can’t handle that right now.”

“Hm.” Richie popped the cork off the rosé and drank from it. Eddie watched him silently, his entire body quivering. Richie sure was taking his sweet fucking time. Eddie could’ve strangled him, had his hands not been shaking. “You know, Mr. Kaspbrak,” Richie said, in his stupid fucking English accent - Eddie was going to lose it. “I don’t believe I am in the mood to entertain you right now. You haven’t been particularly gracious, and I’m fresh out of compassion. Surely, you can understand, Sir Kaspbrak of the Bratty Isles?”

“W-what? Richie, seriously?”

Riche bent down to pat Eddie’s cheek. “Super serious, babes. You shouldn’t have thrown such a fit in Ikea last week. Good luck, though!” He kissed his forehead, and left the rosé. As he opened the door, though, he paused and seemed to consider something. “Well, maybe I can be persuaded.”

“Persuaded?” 

“If you said sorry, and then asked me again nicely,” Richie put his hand over his heart and blinked lightly, superimposing his southern drawl. “I might be more inclined to oblige.”

“Hey, hey! Fuck you!” Eddie hissed. “There is literally no reason for me to apologize. Don’t be an ass, just come here,  _ please. _ ”

Richie seemed to consider this for a moment. Evidently, whatever he said appeared to work, because he eased the door shut and kneeled in front of Eddie. He tilted his head back, and kissed him deeply. Eddie moaned into it - it wasn’t even that sensual, but he was so pent up that it was overwhelming. Richie smiled into the kiss, practically snickered, and leaned farther into it. His left hand stroked the inside of Eddie’s thigh, and his leg spasmed. Richie’s fingertips drew senseless patterns, leading towards his crotch, until he was gently palming him over his swim shorts.

“Richie,” Eddie moaned breathlessly. He spread his legs, coaxing Richie closer. For a moment, Richie was almost tempted, too. But he couldn’t afford to be distracted. 

He pulled away, tugging sharply at Eddie’s bottom lip. “I said no.” Now he did collect himself, standing up and smoothing his hair down. And Eddie could tell he wasn’t coming back, not unless he got on his knees and begged - which he would not be doing. 

“You motherfucker,” Eddie said plainly. At this point, he was too far gone to really pack a punch behind that statement. “If you walk out that door I swear to  _ god _ I will lose it. I will lose it, Richie. I will fucking lose it!”

“Eddie, you losing it is exactly why you’re in this position,” Richie snorted. “But sure, go ahead and lose it some more. I can wait. Not so sure about you though. Guess we’ll find out, huh?” He opened the door, turned around and blew him a kiss, and slammed it shut behind him.

True to his word, Eddie did howl some nonspecific profanities but he did not chase after him. Richie felt a little shock of pleasure run up his spine, like a burst of electricity that left him feeling charged. He almost regretted leaving his poor boy alone in the bathroom. Almost. 

Instead he waited just outside, in the hallway. He figured Eddie would need all of five minutes to fall apart, and he intended on stretching them out. For Eddie, that meant suffering in his desire and rethinking on that sweet, sweet kiss. For Richie, that meant Candy Crush.

Down the hall, he could hear the sounds of a Disney movie. It sounded like CoCo. He could hear the opening guitar, and narrating. A part of him wanted to go watch the movie, but he wasn’t cruel. His poor boy had already been through so much, and he still had so much more he wanted to do - no sense in completely pissing him off just yet. But he did peek his head down the hall, if only to confirm that it was CoCo.

“Yo, what are you guys watching?” He asked, leaning against the wall. “Is that CoCo?”

“Yeah, it is,” Stan said. Someone had made popcorn, and Stan started throwing kernels at him. “Can you go? I know you’re only out here to torture Eddie, and some of us are actually enjoying the movie.”

“Hey, hey! C’mon! Can’t a guy enjoy cinematic genius, while his darling angel is stewing, without having some ulterior motive? I am insulted, Stan. Also, I paid all of you a good amount of money to play along, so… Play along!”

Stan threw more popcorn. “Yeah, yeah. Go on already.”

Ben swatted Stan lightly with a pillow. “Stan. Stop fucking throwing popcorn!”

Richie checked his watch, and then gave them finger guns. “Uh huh, that is my cue to leave! You two have fun, but not too much fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Actually, scratch that. Don’t do anything I  _ would _ do. I’ll be back.” He bopped back down the hallway, and opened up Candy Crush. Now, he waited. 

Riche had to give props to Eddie, he ended up lasting longer than he thought. He’d made it through several rounds of Candy Crush before he thought to check the time. Seven minutes passed before his phone rang and  ** _Eddie Spaghetti_ ** popped up on the screen. He answered.

“Hey, Eds,” Richie said. “Whatcha up to?” There was silence on the other line. But Richie heard a deep breath, drawn in slowly and released even slower. He couldn’t help but smile, but he was silent. He could wait Eddie out.

“Richie,” Eddie whispered into the phone. “I know you’re sitting right outside. I can hear the fucking tasty from your game. Richie, I’m… I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Please,  _ please _ , come back. Please, baby.”

“Hm. You sound so sweet now, Eddie. Had a chance to stew and you realized you were wrong? I should just leave you there.”

“You won’t. You can’t. Maybe I’ve been a bitch, but you aren’t cruel. You aren’t mean. Oh, Richie, I’m sorry. Please, I’m begging you.”

“Begging?”

“Begging. I’m  _ sorry _ .”

Richie hung up the phone, and went back into the bathroom. Eddie was still on the floor, clutching onto his phone in one hand and the bottle of rosé in the other. It only had a little bit left. He set both of these things down on the floor, and scrambled to his feet, swaying. “Richie…”

“Shut up, shut up,” Richie said, pushing Eddie against the wall and slotting his knee in between his legs. He tilted Eddie’s head back and kissed him roughly. Eddie made a desperate little noise that he instantly swallowed up. “Okay, Mr. Kaspbrak,” he cooed, “If the lovely people down the hall don’t hear you, then we’re gonna have to do it again. Capisce?”

Richie wasn’t sure if Eddie even understood him, his eyes had taken on a glassy look. His fingers, trembling, hooked into the elastic of Richie’s swim shorts. “Please, Richie… Please.”

“Okay, baby, okay,” Richie murmured. “No more waiting. Just be a good boy and make some noise for me, yeah?”

Eddie nodded furiously. Richie wasted no time getting down to business. Unfortunately, since he didn’t actually believe he’d get to this point, he hadn’t brought anything to prepare Eddie - and say what you will about Richard Wentworth Tozier, but he was NOT a busybody snoop who dug through others belongings for his own personal use - so he’d have to deal with a handie for now. But Richie was confident that he could still coax out those pretty noises he was seeking.

Richie slid his hand down Eddie’s pants, not at all surprised to find him fully hard. He gently stroked him, maddeningly slow, whispering sweet little praises in Eddie’s ear. He knew Eddie was feeling impatient because he got loud fast, full-throated groans, with that hard edge that meant he was already so close to falling apart.

“Oh, baby, oh, Eddie,” Richie whispered, “listen to you. You’re irresistible. Absolutely enchanting. God, I love you.”

“Richie more, please, more,” Eddie whimpered. He rocked his hips forward, chasing that release. Richie pushed back against him, grunting softly, and used his free hand to steady Eddie’s hips and bring them back harder against him. “Richie…”

“That’s right, baby, you’re doing wonderful. Keep going.”

Eddie did. He, in fact, out performed even Richie’s expectations. His lovely little noises came to a crescendo as he came, and Richie wasn’t that far behind him.

After a moment to come down from their high, Richie whispered, “See? I told you it would take five minutes.”

…

When Eddie and Richie rejoined the group, Ben didn’t think he could raise the volume on the TV anymore, and it was already pushing 80. Over half of CoCo had been ruined, not to mention his poor bathroom. “Glad you two could join us,” he muttered grumpily.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Eddie said sheepishly. “I had an impromptu business call, I didn’t mean for it to take that long.”

Stan snickered. “Uh huh. A business call. I have never heard a business call get that loud before, and I’m an accountant. You have no idea how wild those calls can get.”

“W-what? I had to yell. The, uh, the signal here. Awful. They couldn’t… They couldn’t hear me. I had to be really loud. Really… Loud. I had to… yell.”

“So loud, the poor thing ruined his voice,” Richie cooed, stroking Eddie’s face. “It was a stressful business call, wasn’t it, baby?”

“Just awful,” Eddie said, through gritted teeth.

“I am curious, though,” Beverly said, casually twirling a lock of her hair. “You know, Ben has been on plenty of online meetings and business calls, and he’s never needed me to sit in on them. Why did Richie join you, Eddie?”

Again, Richie mentally cheered. Beverly was so  _ so  _ good at picking up on these cues. Why hadn’t he roped her into his pranks years ago? This was icing on the cake. “Oh, Eds, why’re you blushing? No need to be embarrassed about your job, baby.”

Eddie was red. Furiously so. He stammered for words before finally whispering, “Conference call. It was a conference call.”

There was a moment of silence, before Bill broke it, laughing hysterically. Everyone quickly followed suit; Mike pounded the couch, Stan had tears in his eyes, even Ben reluctantly laughed. Eddie wasn’t laughing though, he managed to grow even redder.

“Don’t worry, hon, they aren’t laughing at you,” Richie whispered, kissing his jaw. “Just at those lovely little noises you made for me.” 

Eddie groaned, and covered his face with his hands. “They all heard, didn’t they?”

“Mhm, they did. Oh, they sure did.”

“Richie, I hate you.”

“I know you do, baby, I know.”


	2. Fine Dining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Chapter 2, although it was a little later than planned. Hope you guys enjoy it. As always, feedback is appreciated!  
Check out my twitter @kingkaspbrak for updates, or just to say hi!

“I told you we shouldn’t have stopped at that fucking joke store! You didn’t even buy anything. It was a total waste of time, and now we’re going to be late for our reservations!”

“That is not my fault,” Richie said, slamming the door behind him. “I need to look for material for my shows everywhere. Some of us do work for a living, honey.”  
“Oh, really, asshole? Really? Some of us have jobs that don’t require hour long trips to fucking joke stores. You know, like a real job? What a concept! And now we’re going to be late, so I hope you’re happy!”

“We could just leave now. Like, if we walked outside and got in the car right now we would be fine.”

Eddie actually paused. Full-on cartoon stopped in his tracks. “Richie fucking Tozier, I hope you’re being sarcastic.” When Richie didn’t say anything, Eddie’s jaw dropped. “We are not going out to the fanciest restaurant in the city like this. This isn’t even my formal fanny pack.”

“Also, you’re in Crocs.”

“Keep them out of this, they’ve done nothing wrong!”

Richie was dumbstruck. “Okay, wow. That’s a lot to unpack. Your Crocs aren’t sentient, I didn’t hurt their-.”

“We don’t have time for this. Go fucking change!” Eddie whisked past him, and slammed the bedroom door shut behind him. Richie could hear the shower turn on, and then Eddie’s bluetooth speaker as the sounds of some true crime podcast started. They didn’t have enough time to get ready, but he still made time for that? Bull-Fucking-Shit.

Richie had wanted to wait before cashing in his next favor with the losers, but Eddie had been really working his nerves today. He also doubted that an opportunity as perfect as this one would appear anytime soon. That hour in the joke store had actually worked out for something. Carpe diem, right?

Richie pulled out his phone and scrolled through his messages until he found the group chat affectionately named:  ** _Team Fuck Eddie Kaspbrat._ **

** _Trashmouth: _ ** _ okay girls and gays, I am officially cashing in favor numero dos. _

** _Queen B: _ ** _ richie no, seriously? do you know how long it took to get these dinner reservations? Not tonight, please not tonight. _

** _New Kid: _ ** _ did something happen? I thought you said you weren’t gonna push him for awhile? _

** _Trashmouth: _ ** _ because kaspbrat has been testing me, and apparently didn’t learn his lesson last time! legally I can’t let him get away with this!! _

** _New Kid: _ ** _ bev……….. He’s right _

** _Queen B: _ ** _ ...richie. I hate you. _

** _Trashmouth: _ ** _ no you don’t. Next pack of cigs are on me. Right, so we’re going to be hideously late, and Eddie is not going to be pleasant company. In about fifteen minutes, I need you to call him and be angry. Love you lots! XOXO _

Richie shut his phone off, and rushed to get dressed before Eddie got out of the shower. When Eddie left the bathroom - hair freshly dried and grey slacks slung low on his hips. God, he looked delicious. Even if Richie hadn’t been planning this, it was a given that he would pounce on him - Richie was sitting on the edge of their bed, aimlessly scrolling through social media. His slate grey button up was undone, untucked and barely sitting on his shoulders. 

“Well, that certainly took you long enough,” Richie said without looking up from his phone. “You can’t bitch about being late and then take an hour to shower, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby,” Eddie said without any conviction, “I was not in there for an hour. That was ten minutes at best, asshole. And you aren’t even dressed, so I don’t want to hear it.” He tugged on the collar of Richie’s shirt, straightening it out. “C’mon. What’re you waiting for?”

Richie hooked his arm around Eddie’s waist, and twirled them around so Eddie was on his back on their bed. Eddie’s eyes were shining, even if he was frowning a little, and Richie couldn’t resist kissing him, just once, but long and lovingly. “I was waiting for you, obviously. What a terrible boyfriend I would be if I didn’t give you a little loving before this long and tedious dinner.”

“Richie, we don’t have-.”

“Shh shh, it’s okay, Eds,” Richie cooed. “I’ll be quick.”

“Don’t call me Eds either.” But that was about as much in the way of disagreement that Eddie gave him, which made Richie more than a little smug.

Richie said nothing in reply. But he could feel Eddie shiver in anticipation as he dragged a fingernail down his chest, slowly, and deftly unbuttoned his jeans. He slid his hand into Eddie’s boxers and held the base of his dick, squeezing just to the point of unbearable, and waited. 

Eddie was fighting against the urge to squirm. The sensation of laying there, Richie watching him quietly, while he held his dick and did  _ absolutely nothing _ was antagonizing. He hitched his hips forward, just once, desperately seeking some friction, and Richie let go completely.

“Don’t,” Richie warned quietly. “Do that again, and I’ll stop.” He waited until Eddie nodded before doing anything. He spat into his palm and slowly slid his hand down, and then back up, and then slid his thumb through the slit. Satisfied that Eddie hadn’t moved, he went a  _ little  _ faster but still too slow for Eddie’s preference, who was currently learning an entirely new meaning to the word: Torture.

“Richie,” Eddie gasped, “go fucking faster. Please. Don’t be a fucking ass.” Eddie was white-knuckling the bedsheets, and using every ounce of his will to keep his hips fucking still. He wanted, desperately, to thrust into Richie’s hands and match his pace. The thought was enough to make his dick twitch. “Oooh, Richie.  _ Please _ .”

Richie couldn’t help the smug satisfaction that bubbled up inside him. He hadn’t even done anything, not really, and his sweet boy was already a mess. How lovely. And how lucky was he to have such a responsive, if not incredibly bratty, baby? He let go of Eddie’s dick, which was quickly hardening, and leaned down to kiss him. 

“I do love you, you know. I absolutely adore you. But I love watching you get riled up almost just as much, if not more, and you have to admit that you deserve it. You are a brat, my love.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“I know you do, baby.”

“ _ Don’t _ call me-!” Eddie’s complaint cut off into a sharp little gasp. Richie had ducked between them and licked up the base of his dick to the tip. He felt his eyes roll back into his head from the sheer pleasure and whatever half-assed snarky crackback he had cooking crumbled away. 

“Tilt your hips up,” Richie whispered, and then slid Eddie’s pants and boxers down to his knees. The cool air against Eddie’s suddenly bare legs made him shiver, but Richie was kind enough not to notice. He leaned back on his haunches, and again with the quiet observing. Eddie was starting to hate it. Especially now, wearing nothing, he felt vulnerable.

“Stop looking at me.”

“It’s not my fault that you’re a work of goddamn art.”

Now Richie mouthed along Eddie’s inner thigh, carefully nipping his skin until he found the spot that made Eddie keen and sucking on it until it began blossoming purple. A low sound came unbidden from Eddie’s throat, almost like a wail but pitched much lower and pregnant with unparalleled need. Eddie’s thighs began quaking when Richie did it again on the opposite leg, and then again just below it.

“Stop, stop, you have to stop,” Eddie begged, “please. Stop teasing me and give me something before I lose my fucking mind.”

“Hm. But I want to tease you. You sound so pretty when you’re worked to the edge, Eds. I can’t help myself.”

Eddie’s phone rang.

“Fuck off,” Eddie hissed, both in answer to Richie and because of the phone. He reached over to the nightstand and glanced at the caller ID. “Oh, jesus. It’s Beverly. Fucking hell.” He went to answer the phone, and then shot Richie a glare. “Hey. Don’t do  _ anything _ while I’m on the phone.”

Richie gave Eddie an innocent smile, and simply traced innocuous circles into Eddie’s thigh. He mentally cheered. He was officially making Beverly the co-captain of Team Fuck Eddie Kaspbrat! Her timing was impeccable, as always. 

Eddie propped himself up on one elbow and answered the phone, forcing an apologetic smile into his voice. “Beverly, hi! No, we didn’t forget about you. I’m sorry, we’re running a bit late. Well, yes, more than a bit. I know, I know…”

The sound of Eddie’s insistent apologizing faded into the background. Richie was more focused on what was right in front of him, anyway. He wrapped his hand around Eddie’s dick again, and before Eddie could react, started lapping at the tip like it was a goddamn ice cream cone.

Eddie’s apologies came to a sudden and grinding halt, and a half-mangled gasp choked out. “No, no! I’m sorry, Bev. No, I just stubbed my toe. You know me, c-clumsy as all hell.” He shot daggers down at Richie, and mouthed,  _ Fucking Stop! _

He had his attention now.

Richie did stop what he was doing. He smiled sweetly enough that it rendered Eddie momentarily breathless, which was the perfect set up for Richie to wrap his lips around his dick and deepthroat him.

“Richie!” Eddie gasped, eyes alight with outrage but mouth slack with pleasure. He hollowed out his cheeks and Eddie squeaked out obscenities, forgetting completely about his phone call. Eddie could fucking feel the smirk on Richie’s face, the smugness radiating from his lips and up Eddie’s spine. He reached down to tangle his fingers in Riche’s hair, his hips stuttering up almost against his will, and suddenly realized he was still on the phone.

“Bev! No, no, no! Not at all! He’s just - fuck, ahhh - fooling around. I know. I’m sorry. We’re literally walking out the door. We’ll be there soon, I promise. Okay, okay, yeah, bye!” 

Eddie tossed his phone across their bed and collapsed on his back with a frustrated sigh. “Hurry up and finish so we can go,” Eddie said, “Bev sounded really pissed.”

“If she’s so pissed, then we probably shouldn’t keep her waiting, huh?”

“Yes, right, exactly, so hurry, Richie. You’re talking too much.”

Richie kissed the inside of Eddie’s thigh, his belly, his chest, and then finally his lips, so lovingly that Eddie felt himself positively melt. He pulled back to smile at him, eyes sparkling, and whispered, “No.”

Eddie felt his head spin. Richie had taken him on an emotional journey that spanned the entire fucking Sahara Desert, and then left him there. Alone. “Hey, what the fuck? What do you mean ‘No’?”

Richie climbed off of Eddie and stood up, stretching his back and letting out an absolutely lewd sound. Eddie bit down on the back of his wrist, failing at muffling a desperate mewl. “Richie, come back. Don’t do this to me again.”

“To be fair, Spaghetti, I  _ did _ tell you that I’d stop if you did that again.”

“That is not fair,  _ that is not fair _ ! I was distracted, I was on the phone. Don’t pull this shit, Richie.”

Richie shrugged, and started buttoning up his shirt. “Baby boy, you know how much I want to. I can hardly resist you, you know. God, I just want to get my hands all over you and make you keen my name. But I  _ told _ you what would happen, and I, Richie Tozier, am a man of my word. You gotta wait, Kaspbrak.”

Eddie sat up, speechless. “Richie,  _ please _ .”

Richie patted Eddie’s cheek. “Cheer up. Gives you something to look forward to, if you’re good. Now, c’mon. Aren’t we late?”

*** 

“I hope they haven’t gone through the bread yet,” Richie said as they were led to their table.

“The bread? The fucking bread? Is that what you’re worried about right now, Richie? We’re like an hour late, of course they’ve gone through the mother _ fucking  _ bread.”

“Oh, you are all keyed up, love,” Richie cooed in his English accent, “whatever has you in such a titz, Sir Kaspbrak?”

Eddie smacked the shit out of Richie’s arm, fire and brimstone blazing in his eyes. “I swear, Richie, I swear on everything you have ever loved, that I will hurt you.”

“You’ll be swearing on yourself, hon.”

Eddie blushed, but was spared from having to answer when they finally reached the table. Ben gave them a little wave, but Beverly watched them impassively, one eyebrow raised. 

Unsurprisingly, they had gone through the bread. Richie even had the audacity to get mad, but a sharp look from Beverly kept him from really blowing up about it.

“Well, it certainly took you long enough,” she said, her lips were pursed but there was a light in her eyes. Beverly couldn’t resist a good prank, even if it did interfere with her very expensive dinner plans, and Richie was heavily banking on that because he was about to do some things that weren’t strictly kosher.

“I am so sorry, Bev,” Eddie said settling down in his seat, jacket firmly over his lap. “Richie just  _ had  _ to stop at this joke store in the town over, and he spent an hour poking around the whoopie cushions only to decide he didn’t want anything. I am just as furious as you are.”

“That’s funny, it didn’t  _ sound _ like you were at a joke shop when we spoke. Actually, it sounded like you were at home and getting it-.”

Eddie made a noise like a pterodactyl that had ran into a livewire. “Buh buh buh, I simply do  _ not  _ know what you’re talking about! We were at a joke shop, and Richie was being an asshole, as he is prone to be. Isn’t that right, Richie?”

Richie smiled brightly. “You know how I am, Bev. Sometimes, I just can’t help myself. The store was irresistible, and I have such  _ terrible  _ impulse control.”

“A-and he has the worst, the absolute worst, time management skills,” Eddie quickly added. “I mean, an hour in a joke store? That’s just… That’s just bad.”

Beverly looked between the two of them, and then shared a knowing glance with Ben. “Sure, I’ll buy that for the time being, if only because the waiter is coming and I’ve had to send him away three fucking times already.”

Eddie smiled sheepishly, and muttered a muted apology. The waiter came and took their orders, Richie demanded another basket of bread, and to Eddie, it appeared as if the rest of the night would continue without a hitch.

However, Eddie forgot a crucial piece of information, unfortuanately, and that was the fact that he was dating Richie Fucking Tozier. 

Sometime after the entree but before dessert, Richie started getting handsy again. At first it was a simple hand on the knee, a gesture that Eddie took as more proprietary than anything sexual. It actually made him feel comfortable, like he was reminding Eddie of what waited for him when they got home. Eddie, of course, believed too strongly in the “getting home” part. 

When the waiter cleared away their dinner plates, and poured them a third round of wine, Richie slid his hand farther up Eddie’s thigh. Again, he didn’t think much of it. Richie wasn’t drinking since he drove, so he couldn’t write the behavior away as alcohol-induced horniness. But his hand hadn’t reached any danger area, so he ignored it. 

“So, Eddie, how’s the risk analyzing going?” Beverly asked casually, as her and Ben flipped through the dessert menu. 

“Oh, you know,” Eddie laughed, “nothing exciting, according to Richie. Business is doing well though, so at least one of us can pay the bills. Some of us are more preoccupied with hand buzzers and squirting flowers.”

“Uh huh, and any interesting clients as of late? Anyone who really stuck out?”

Eddie pondered on this for a moment, and started to explain about a funny little man who’d wanted to inquire about the likelihood of getting hit by a falling piano—honestly, Eddie had  _ no _ idea how he’d made it past reception, he was thinking of making staff changes and quickly—when Richie moved his hand up his inner thigh, and dug his thumb into one of the hickies he’d left earlier. 

Eddie choked, and then started coughing. 

“Holy shit, are you okay??” Beverly asked, concerned. Had Eddie been paying any attention, he’d have realized that she was badly suppressing a laugh. 

“Babe, baby, Eddie, are you okay? Can you breathe?” Richie asked, absolutely dripping with false concern and sympathy. But Eddie saw the smug satisfaction behind his facade. He grabbed Richie’s wrist and tossed his hand away. 

“I’m fucking  _ fine _ , Richie,” Eddie hissed, “just swallowed weird. I’m fine.”

“Swallowed wrong? How awful,” Richie exclaimed, his hand had found its way back on Eddie’s thigh, he traced his fingernails in long lines up and down the inside of it. “Do be careful, love, we wouldn’t want something to happen.”

Eddie bit down on his cheek to suppress the shiver that ran down his spine. Fucking Richie Tozier, man, fucking Richie Tozier. “I said I’m fine. What were we talking about?”

“Risk analyzing,” Ben said helpfully, “you were telling us about the piano guy.”

“The piano guy, yeah,” Eddie glared at Richie, “were you listening to that, Richie? Because I think if you used your  _ listening  _ ears and not your  _ touching  _ hands, you’d get a real kick outta this story.”

“I’ve always been a multitasker, Eds, you know this. Keep talking. I’ll get my kick sooner or later.” He kept his hand up on Eddie’s thigh, index finger circling another one of the hickies with just enough pressure to make Eddie squirm.

“R-right, so anyway, this little guy comes into my office with some sorta chip on his shoulder. He sits himself down with this stupid face, and goes -  _ RICHIE _ !”

Beverly blinked. “He said ‘Richie’? Why would he say that? Richie, were you there during the meeting?

“Nope,” Richie said pleasantly, “why would I? That’s Eddie’s job, and I don’t mess around in his super serious, completely hardcore, no funny business, and absolutely No Chuckalicious place of work. Isn’t that right, dearest?”

Eddie had gone beet red. He stammered for words, but ended up just nodding amicably. Richie’s hand had found itself on his dick, massaging it with a lazily unhurriedness. He turned to face Richie, eyes blazing. “R-Richie,  _ stop _ .”

“Stop what?” Richie asked. He used his free hand to cup Eddie’s face, frowning in false concern. “You feeling okay, Eds? You are burning up.” He shrugged over at Ben and Beverly. “I might need to take him home, he doesn’t look so well.”

Eddie leaned into Richie’s touch, eyes half lidded. “Richie…”

At that point, the waiter returned. He offered the table a smile, oblivious to what was going on, and asked, “Did we decide on any dessert?”

“No,” Beverly sighed, “I think we’ll just take the check.” 

  
  


***

The waiter brought the check and set it carefully in the middle of the table. Ben reached for it without hesitation, but Beverly slapped his hand away. 

“Actually, Richie offered to pay, baby,” she smiled, and unceremoniously tossed it into Richie’s lap.“Wasn’t that so considerate of him?” Her eyes sparkled with the challenge, and Richie had to admit he was impressed. None of the others had taken advantage of the situation at all. Time and again, Beverly reminded him why they were best fucking friends.

_ Touche _ Richie mouthed. He slipped his credit card into the checkholder and handed it off to the waiter, who hurried it off silently. 

Eddie clutched the edge of the table, and tried to focus on something, anything, other than the sensation of Richie massaging his dick. He chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep himself grounded, and thankfully enough Ben and Beverly seemed to be preoccupied with their own conversation to notice what was going on, or were polite enough to ignore it.

The waiter came back with the check, wished them well, and Eddie did not hesitant to usher everyone out of the restaurant. He held his jacket balled up in front of him, trying for casual but succeeding awkward at best and downright obvious at worse.

They said hurried goodbyes to Ben and Beverly, and Eddie made some pathetic attempt to both apologize and a promise to make it up. Beverly waved a hand dismissively. 

“Don’t worry about it, Eddie, you know I could never be mad at you. We’ll get together sometime soon, without the boys.”

Richie pretended to be mock offended. “Why, I never!” He trilled, in a southern bell twang. “And here I thought we were birds of a feather, Mrs. Hanscom! Never in my life have I been so insulted.”

Ben shook his head, but he was laughing and there was good humor in his eyes. This whole situation was ridiculous, but damn if he didn’t love these assholes. “Don’t be upset, Ms. Tozier. I’ll take you horseback riding into the sunset. Or, some shit…”

Richie scrunched his face up in an attempt to keep character, but ultimately failed. He hadn’t expected Ben to run with the joke, and he was delighted that he tried - even if it was halfheartedly. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Richie agreed, “tea time for the ladies, and a romantic getaway for the men. Eddie, if I buy you a teatime bonnet, would you wear it?”

“Richie…”

“Okay, okay! We’ll be going now. I had a great time, guys, thank you for inviting us. Unfortunately, I have to take care of Baby Kaspbrat before he has a big boy fit. See ya!”

Eddie was silent on the walk to the car. He was furious! This was the second time Richie completely embarrassed him in front of his friends. How many times was he planning on doing this, and did Richie really expect him to lay down and take it?

“I swear I’m going to get you back, Richie,” Eddie fumed, “you don’t get to just get away with this shit. Where do you get off, huh? Is mortifying me in public, in front of our friends, some sort of creepy kink for you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Richie hummed. “I also love putting you in your place. You’ve got a big ego and a bigger mouth, and sometimes you just have to be reminded what happens to brats. Best part is, I know you’ll keep acting out because you absolutely love this, you’re just too shy to admit it. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“...shut up,” Eddie muttered, “can we just go home? You’ve made me wait long enough, asshole.”

Richie couldn’t help but laugh. It was just like Eddie to avoid answering the question outright while simultaneously answering the question. He started the car and placed a reassuring hand on Eddie’s thigh. In the privacy and darkness of the car, Eddie found himself moving Richie’s hand over his bulge.

“I hate you, you know. I really hate you.”

Richie leaned over the center console and kissed Eddie roughly. “Hm. You’re such a liar, Eddie. You don’t have a hateful bone in your body. You couldn’t hate me if you tried.”

Eddie pushed back against Richie, nipping his bottom lip coyly. “I do try, though.”

“I know you do,” Richie’s voice had deepened, taken on a dangerous edge that sent electricity tingling through Eddie’s body. Richie massaged the outline of Eddie’s dick through his jeans, eliciting from him those sweet noises that Richie was quickly growing addicted to. “Which is why you’re waiting until we get home before I take care of that, if then.”

Richie was decent enough to at least keep his hand near Eddie’s thigh. He backed the car out of the parking lot with his free hand and  _ tortured  _ Eddie with the other one.

“Fuck you, Richie.”

“That’s right, Eddie baby, dig yourself a deeper hole.”


	3. Strip Monopoly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie has a creative idea to spice up the loser's game night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! Here's the final scenario of Richie torturing Eddie. Sorry for the wait! I hope you all enjoy it!

The losers monthly game night was as fierce as UFC cage matches and as competitive as NFL football. 

Two months back it had been Scrabble. Ben really wanted to win that one. He kept arranging and rearranging his tiles, but nothing better than three letter words sprang out at him. Beverly’s head was in his lap, and she was smoking a cigarette and spouting off random words that he kept missing. Mike, who had at that point nursed down a few beers, was pleasantly buzzed and couldn’t be bothered to work out anything complex. Stan and Bill were neck-in-neck. Richie had decided long ago that Scrabble was  _ not _ for him. He drew Eddie into his lap, and the two of them were kissing very slowly and Eddie decided Scrabble was his favorite game in the world.

The month before was Clue. That one had spiraled out of control at an alarming rate. Beverly and Richie were cheating - Beverly by cozying up to Ben and surveying his cards when he wasn’t paying attention, Richie by giving Eddie long and loving kisses and swapping their cards. Mike and Stan were competing ferociously, barely speaking save to make accusations. Bill, who really just wanted a normal game night, was overrun by the antics of the others. He lost first.

This month was Monopoly. Eddie was  _ terrified _ . Monopoly was an awful game before they got their hands on it, and after Richie’s previous transgressions he felt more than a little cautious. Richie and Eddie were hosting this month. Richie had spent most of the day cleaning, baking cookies, and generally being on his best behavior. This only worried Eddie further. 

“Richie, since when have you cared this much about game night?” Eddie asked, hopping up on the counter and swiping a sugar cookie when he thought he wasn’t looking. “I have never seen you be such a housewife before. Why don’t you ever make cookies for me?”

“I saw that, you little shit,” Richie scowled, “I do, too, make you cookies. Just never this many. Listen, I’ll be honest with you, Eds. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we haven’t been stellar company as of late…”

“We?” Eddie demanded in disbelief.

“...And I’m attempting to make amends. Surely you can understand that?” Richie blinked innocently, and Eddie felt the fear of god in him.

“Richie, no funny business tonight. I mean it. I want a wholesome night.”

“Spaghetti, how can you ask that of me? Might as well ask me not to breathe, baby boy.”

Oh, Eddie liked that. The pet name felt like a feather soft stroke between his shoulder blades, and a kiss from a sweet summer breeze. He closed his eyes and smiled. Richie caught it. He came over and ran his palms over Eddie’s thighs. Eddie cupped Richie’s face in his hands, tilted him upward, and met him for a kiss so loving Eddie felt his breath catch.

“You taste like sugar cookies,” Richie murmured into his mouth.

Eddie bit down gently onto Richie’s bottom lip, and tugged as they separated. “Wonder where that could’ve come from?”

“Oh, I am obsessed with you. I am completely smitten.” Richie kissed Eddie again, deeper, more intimate. He pressed up against him, as close as he could against the counter, and Eddie wrapped his arms around his neck and felt happiness bubble up inside him so suddenly and violently he got dizzy. 

The oven timer went off.

“Oh, what lousy timing,” Eddie grumbled. Richie gave him a quick little peck before separating them, pulling on his oven mitts and laughing slightly. In his  _ Kiss the Chef  _ kitchen apron and sweater and absolutely ridiculous ThunderCats oven mitts Eddie had bought him for his birthday, Eddie didn’t think he’d ever looked better. “Richie?”

Richie was pulling out another tray of cookies - these were snickerdoodles - and he paused. Something in Eddie’s tone of voice made him look up. “Yeah, Eds?”

“I love you,” Eddie said plainly. “That’s all.”

Richie felt himself blush. Eddie had caught him off guard. He set the tray down, tossed his mitts on the counter, and wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist. Eddie curled his legs around Richie, and went to kiss him but Richie tucked his face into Eddie’s neck and just held him.

“I know I give you shit all the time, but I really do love you,” Richie mumbled into Eddie’s skin, “I think you’re the bee's knees, Eds.”

Eddie laughed. He couldn’t help himself. It was such a ridiculous situation - Richie baking cookies and setting up a monopoly board, Eddie sitting on the counter and munching on Richie’s hard work, and he knew the minute they separated Richie ‘Shit Head’ Tozier would go back to planning whatever mortifying ordeal he had in store for him - yet in that moment, they had found a chance to say what lay at the heart of it all.

“I love you, too, Rich,” Eddie said. He kissed the top of his head, and Richie squeezed him tighter. “You’re an asshole, but I adore you.”

Richie pulled back so they could kiss properly, and Eddie felt himself melt. Again, he knew that the second this moment ended Richie would go right back to whatever fuckery he was doing, but this? Well he liked this. 

They kissed some more, deeper and slower. Richie’s hands rubbed up and down his thighs, squeezing lightly, temptingly. Eddie ran a hand through Richie’s hair and sighed wantonly. 

“Richie…”

“Yeah, baby? You like that?”

Eddie made some noise between a whimper and a groan. He could feel Richie smile into the kiss, felt his hands squeeze him once again. Richie kissed his jaw, and then down his neck. When he nipped his collarbone, Eddie went boneless. “Please.”

“Mhm,” Richie lifted Eddie off the counter and carried him into their bedroom. He very gently laid him down on the bed, and then straddled him.

Eddie’s lips were swelling. Richie sat back on his haunches just to observe him. God, he was gorgeous. He hooked the hem of Eddie’s shirt and pulled it off of him, tossing it somewhere on the floor. Eddie’s chest felt warm, and it started rising quicker from his touch. 

“Richie, stop, you know I don’t like it when you do that,” Eddie whispered. Richie smiled. Eddie’s chest rose faster. 

“Do what?”

“When you just look at me, doing nothing. I can’t handle it.”

“Baby, I can’t help myself.”

Eddie felt himself blush. He wriggled a bit under Richie’s gaze, but he was stuck tight between his legs. Nowhere to go. Oh, he was about to combust. “Richie, if you don’t fucking do something right now, I swear to god I will fucking lose it.”

“I’m sure you will,” Richie cooed. He leaned down, kissing Eddie’s belly, his ribs, his chest. Eddie’s skin was hot beneath his lips. His breath quickened with every kiss. Richie could feel Eddie’s muscles jump, as if he were restraining himself. The idea made him see stars. Perhaps something to explore later. “I’m gonna finger you, does that sound okay?”

“That is more than okay,” Eddie babbled, “please fucking do that. Right now.

Richie laughed a little under his breath, and reached over to the nightstand. He dug through the drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube. “Put a pillow under your hips, Eddie.”

Eddie hastily pulled down his pants, and then reached blindly above him, grabbing the first pillow he came into contact with and sliding it under his hips. He dug his fingers into Richie’s forearm. “Richie. Please.”

Something about the way he said it, straight-forward and no nonsense, tugged at Richie’s heartstrings. “I know, my love, I know.”

As Richie poured the cold liquid onto one hand, his phone started to ring. Swearing, he used his clean hand to pick it up. “It’s Stan. I have to take this.”

“Richie!”

“Eddie. I’ll still finger you. Be quiet, unless you don’t mind Stan hearing you.”

“I don’t mind.”

At that moment, Richie had never felt more in love with Eddie. He gave him a cheeky wink, and sunk his index finger inside him while simultaneously answering the phone.

“Hey, Stan the Man! How’s it hanging?” Richie asked. He stretched Eddie open, and squeezed in a second finger. “Good? Good. I’m just chilling. Eddie’s napping. Uh huh. Sure, sure. Give me one second.”

He covered the receiver of the phone, and whispered, “Eddie, tilt your hips up. Yeah, like that. Okay. Ready for a third? Yeah? God, you’re so good for me.”

Richie slipped in another finger, and then curled them upward to press against Eddie’s prostate. Eddie moaned Richie’s name, a beautiful noise that Stan definitely heard. 

“Oh, what was that?” Richie said into the phone. “That was Eddie. He woke up. He’s a bit noisy when he’s woken up. Just ignore it. What were you saying?”

Richie continued pressing against Eddie’s prostate. Eddie continued wailing, and pushing back against Richie’s fingers. Stan, graciously, continued ignoring it.

“Oooh, Richie, Richie, I’m going to-!”

“No, you’re not, not until I get off the phone,” Richie hissed, “No, not you. Sorry, Stan. Listen, I’ve got to go. See ya soon.” Richie hung the phone up and tossed it across the bed. “Okay, we have twenty minutes. Let’s make the most of it.”

“Richie,” Eddie whimpered, “Richie, can I-?”

“Yes, please,” Richie grunted. He squeezed a fourth finger inside him, but Eddie didn’t make it much longer after that. He came suddenly and loudly, back arching off the bed and eyes rolling back into his head.

“Richie, ooh, Richie,” Eddie cried. His body collapsed back on the bed, muscles lax.

“I love you, oh I love you,” Richie whispered. He cupped Eddie’s face with his clean hand, brought him up for a kiss. “You are so good, you are so so good.”

When Eddie finally came down, Richie scooped him up and carried him into the bathroom. “Okay, let’s get you cleaned up for game night.”

  
  


***

  
  


Monopoly was a poor choice of game.

Stan was crushing it, which was unsurprising. Mike and Beverly were tied for second. Bill, who had learned his lesson from the month before, had brought along a manuscript that he was editing and only set it aside to move his token or make some snippy comments. 

“I did  _ not _ want to play monopoly, for the record,” Bill said, landing in jail for the third time in a row. “I hate this fucking game. I hate it so much. Next month, I’m picking.”

“It’s my turn to pick,” Beverly said, “and I happen to love monopoly. Tough luck, Denborough. We’re definitely playing this again next month.”

“What happened to not playing the same game in a row?”

Before Beverly could say anything, Mike said, “Oh, that’s why we just bought that monopoly with the credit cards. Totally different game. Don’t worry, maybe you’ll be good at that one!”

“Not likely,” Stan said, and failed at stifling a smile as he landed on free parking and collected the growing pile of money, amid a chorus of complaints. “Big Bill is no good with numbers. But hey, maybe you won’t completely suck at it. It’s certainly easier than handling actual money.”

“Fuck you!” Bill seethed, kicking aimlessly towards Stan and missing. “Listen, if I were actually paying attention to the game, I’d be winning. If anything, I’m doing this for  _ your _ sake, Mr. I’m An Accountant Therefore I’m Good With Numbers.”

“Uh huh, and that’s why you’re in jail for the millionth time. Right?”

Bill flipped Stan the bird and went back to his manuscript. Everyone else laughed, but Richie had a contemplative look on his face. 

“You know, Big Bill has a point,” Richie mused, voice casual. He glanced over his properties, rearranged his cards. He had bought all four of the railroad stations, and managed to bargain his way into taking St. Charles Place from Mike. Now, with States Avenue and Virginia Avenue, he was happily placing houses onto the properties. “We could make this game more interesting.”

Eddie, who had been busy counting his money to see if he could realistically afford the Boardwalk (he couldn’t, but god dammit he was buying it anyway), whipped his head up and narrowed his eyes. “NO, Richie. No. Whatever the fuck you’re thinking, no.”

“Aw, Eddie, at least give him a chance,” Ben protested. “Lord knows this is a boring ass game. We could use a little something to make it interesting.

“You’re only saying that because you’re losing,” Eddie pointed out, “you’re almost fucking bankrupt. Don’t go changing the rules now just because you suck at the fucking game.”

Ben  _ was  _ losing, and badly. He had taken out a mortgage on Atlantic Avenue AND Kentucky Avenue, and he still struggled when he landed on an owned property. Yes, he was about to lose and no he wasn’t happy about it. That, and Richie had one FINAL favor to cash in, and he was using it. “That’s not true, I think we should spice the game up. Let’s be honest, I’m losing either way, so it doesn’t bother me.”

“Well, I say no,” Eddie said, “because I know how Richie works. I don’t know if you’ve all forgotten, but Richie is a wolf in sheep's clothing. He’s gonna make this sound like a lovely little idea, but it’ll be awful and terrible and we’ll regret it.”

“To be fair,” Beverly said, shaking the dice and letting them fall from her fingers. “I think the only person that would actually affect is you. Richie isn’t normally a little shit to the rest of us. He knows better. I don’t care if we spice the game up. I’m about to beat Stan anyway.”

Stan laughed. “Sure you are, Bev. I’ll let you think that. I’m comfortably ahead enough that I don’t care if we change the rules. I’m winning anyway.”

“All of you are  _ stupid _ ,” Eddie seethed. “None of you are winning if you agree to his fucking idea,  _ HE’S _ winning! He hasn’t even explained it yet, what if it’s something awful like… like… real money or something.”

“Game night is a night of risks, Eddie!” Richie exclaimed, in an old newscaster voice. “Who are we if not gambling away our desires and dreams on this night of games? Are we not just creatures of restlessness, only cured by trading away what we hold dear?”

“NO.” 

“Okay, fine, bratty boy, we’ll put it up to a vote,” Richie said, looking around for nods of agreement. “That’s fair, right? Democracy, and all that shit.”

“No, that’s not fair, everyone has already expressed that they agree with you! That is so rigged, already!”

Richie leaned over to kiss Eddie on the cheek. “Babe, that’s how a vote works. It’s okay, though. I think you’ll like this. Okay, all in favor?”

There was a general chorus of ayes.

“All against?”

A very loud, very angry nay from a certain Eddie Kaspbrat.

“Okay, sounds like we’re going with my idea. It’s very simple, it won’t even change the game that much. I propose, and you have to agree with it since we already voted, that we change monopoly to strip monopoly.”

“Intriguing, how would that work?” Stan asked.

“Very simply, and thank you so much for asking, Stan! Let’s say you land on one of my lovely properties with some of these lovely houses and can’t afford to pay the rent. I’ll allow you to remove a piece of clothing in lieu of it. Easy, right?”

Stan nodded, failing once more at stifling a smile. This was such an obvious tactic to get Eddie to strip. No one else was struggling with their money, except for maybe Ben but no one would complain if he had to strip. “Simple enough, Tozier.”

The game continued.

Eddie was already fuming. Normally, he’d go bankrupt and ruin Richie’s dumbass game change, but he hated losing and he especially hated losing monopoly. It was monopoly! You can’t lose at a game that was literally just paying taxes - that meant you were bad at life, and Eddie Kaspbrak was NOT bad at life, thank you very much.

He shouldn’t have bought the fucking Boardwalk.

Sure, he passed Go, even collected $200, but it was not enough. He wasn’t worried about this first stretch of properties, but after Jail Richie had houses and would soon be replacing them with hotels.  _ That _ concerned him greatly. Mike, Stan, and Beverly all passed their turns uneventfully. Ben ditched his socks to prevent paying Richie rent on the Pennsylvania Railroad, and Eddie mentally cheered that he wasn’t the first lose clothes. Richie collected a hefty sum from Bill when he finally got out of jail, only to be sent right back in by a chance card.

Finally, it was Eddie’s turn. He pretended not to acknowledge Richie’s smug smile as he scooped the dice up and rolled. One, two, three, four,

Shit.

** _SHIT._ **

Eddie landed on Pennsylvania Avenue. A property owned by one Richie Tozier, who also happened to own North Carolina Avenue and Pacific Avenue, and were each decorated with hotels.

“Richie, hey, wait, let’s talk about this,” Eddie said quickly, but Richie was already shaking his head. 

“You know what you have to do,” Richie laughed. Eddie protested only for a minute, and then peeled his socks off. 

“Fine, you didn’t specify what clothes so this counts,” Eddie stuck his tongue out.

Richie only smiled, but didn’t say anything. Eddie wanted to play the long game? He was totally fine with that, preferred it even. It made his inevitable fall that much better.

Richie grabbed a blanket from the couch and wrapped it around his shoulders. Eddie was watching him carefully, and Richie only winked at him and scooped up the dice.

He could be patient. 

The game continued.

  
  


***

  
  


Eddie was freezing. Everyone else was cozy and snug and  _ clothed _ but he was wearing nothing - Nothing!! - but his boxers. That wasn’t fair, actually, Ben was missing his shirt and socks, but other than that everyone else was untouched.

“This isn’t fucking fair, asshole,” Eddie snarled as he landed on the Reading Railroad. The rent for the property was pretty much the rest of his money. Now, he either 

A) Paid up and lost the game, fair and square

OR

B) Removed the rest of his clothes, thereby forever ruining his dignity 

Which was totally what Richie wanted. Eddie could scream.

“Them's the rules, babycakes,” Richie said, but even he - the king of pranks - couldn’t stop himself from smiling. This was too good. “You agreed. Now pay up or strip down.”

“Don’t call me fucking babycakes, oh my god?” Eddie said in utter disbelief. “You stupid fucking-! You made the rules, just take the damn thing back!”

“Well, actually,” Stan said, trying his hardest not to snicker, “paying the rent of a property isn’t a rule Richie made it. It’s… the game. You’re gonna have to do at  _ least _ that much.”

“I-.” Eddie saw red. “I’m not paying. I’m not losing the fucking game. But, I’m not sitting here,  _ naked _ , either. That’s way too much exposure. So, tough.”

Stan opened his mouth, but Richie beat him to the punch. He held onto the corners of his blanket and opened his arms up. “No worries, Eds! Come join the blanket burrito.”

“Or I could get my own?” Eddie said panicked. He knew exactly what would happen if he got anywhere near the burrito - not that he wouldn’t like it, but he was getting real sick and tired of giving Richie what he wanted.

“Nope, if you get your own blanket I’m counting it as clothes,” Beverly said quickly. She caught Richie’s eye and tossed him a secret wink. “You either go with Richie, or stay there in all your naked glory. Or lose the game. Whichever!”

“How does a blanket even count as clothing?” Eddie demanded. “Bill, Mike, you have to see how fucked up this is!”

Mike shrugged a shoulder. “Eddie, I try my best not to get involved with this stuff. If Bev says it counts as clothing, then it’s clothing as far as I’m concerned. Also, you’re holding up the game for the rest of us, so if you could hurry up and decide…”

Bill barely looked up from his manuscript. “Love you, Eddie, but I literally cannot care less about this stupid fucking game. I’m literally in jail half the time, so this stripping rule doesn’t do anything to me. Just take off your damn clothes, or accept that you lost.”

“You know what? Fuck all of you.” Eddie said. “I am not losing this fucking game.” He stood up, turned his back to them, and shimmied his boxers off. There was a general sound of applause, a few whoops, and a wolf whistle that could only come from a certain Richie Motherfuckin’ Tozier. He covered himself with one hand, and crept into the blanket burrito with Richie. 

“You look great, Eddie,” Richie purred in his ear.

Eddie adjusted himself so that he was comfortably situated in Richie’s lap and squarely over his dick. He wiggled down, pleased to hear a sharp intake of breath from him. “I fucking hate you, Richie. I will get you back for this.”

“Sure you will.”

Bill got back out of jail, bought Connecticut Avenue, Vermont Avenue, and Oriental Avenue, managed to make it halfway across the board, only to land on the go to jail space. Again. “I’m sick of this fucking game! Richie, I’m raiding your alcohol. Go ahead and please skip my turn if I’m not back. Don’t even bother rolling for me. I fucking hate monopoly.”

“Go ahead, Big Bill, but bring something back for the rest of us,” Richie said. He slapped Bill’s ass as he walked past him. “Cheer up, ol’ chap! The game isn’t that bad.”

“No, it is,” Bill muttered, and disappeared into the kitchen.

Ben landed on the electric company after rolling a 12, and quietly pulled his jeans off. He folded them neatly, pretending he wasn’t burning in absolute mortification. Eddie was glad to see someone else facing the consequences of agreeing with any idea of Richie’s.

“The male model  _ does _ wear Calvin Klein,” Richie mused, shaking the dice absently with one hand. “Very nice. And very good to know. That’s going straight into the ol’ spank bank.”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Ben whispered.

“I could wear Calvin Klein, he isn’t special because he wears fancy boxers,” Eddie muttered, mostly to himself. Sitting this close to Richie, wearing nothing, was making him antsy as all hell and when he got antsy he got snippy. 

“I’m not saying you couldn’t, baby,” Richie cooed, “I’m just merely admiring what’s in front of me, right now. Are you jealous?”

“No.”  _ Yes. _

“Eddie, you’re naked and sitting in my lap. Who do you think I want more?”

“I don’t know, the male model?”

“Oh my god. Eddie.” Richie tossed the dice, and when he leaned forward to move his token he grabbed Eddie’s dick with his other hand and loosely stroked him.

“Richie-!”

“Shh,” Richie whispered, “don’t want the others catching on, right?”

Before Eddie could answer, Bill came back with two bottles of white wine and glasses. Everyone let out a cheer. Bill poured, grabbed his manuscript, and sat back on the couch. “Okay, let’s finish this fucking game.”

“ _ That’s _ the spirit!” Richie said, raising his glass of wine in a salute. Everyone else raised their glass, chiming in with pleasantries. Eddie’s glass was left untouched. He was focusing too hard on Richie  _ jerking him off _ to risk it. He figured he’d get away with it, though. At least until…

“Eds, why aren’t you toasting with us?” Richie asked. “C’mon, don’t be a Bill. Get into the swing of things!”

Okay. Fine. Eddie was done playing the game. Through clenched teeth, Eddie hissed, “I fucking hate you.” But he grabbed his glass with a shaking hand, and held it up enough for the room to see. “Happy? Good. Fuck all of you.”

Everyone laughed, and drank. Eddie downed his own glass, took Richie’s glass and downed it too, and then said, “Richie and I are gonna go fuck. Feel free to finish the motherfucking game.” Eddie pulled the blanket away from Richie, wrapped it around his hips, and walked into their bedroom.

Richie felt his jaw drop. “Goddamn, I love him. You guys, I fucking love him. He is the actual and literal love of my life. I’m going. I have to. Good luck with the game, and don’t wait around.” 

Richie ran after Eddie, and left the room in silence.

“I think it’s safe to say I won?” Stan questioned. There was a general census of agreement, and they set to cleaning up the game and the glasses.

“Now what?” Bill asked, “do we just go?”

“Nope,” Beverly said, plopping down on the couch and tucking her legs underneath her. “You guys are so stupid. This is our last chance to extort Richie before he’s cashed in all his favors. I think I remember him saying he was gonna order in food and we’d watch a movie, isn’t that right?”

“Yeah, actually,” Stan mused, “I do recall him saying that. We shouldn’t just up and leave, that’d be rude.”

“You guys are truly evil,” Mike laughed, settling down, “what’re we watching in the meantime?”

“Stranger Things, I need to catch up,” Beverly said, grabbing the tv remote and switching it on. “I’ll turn it up, don’t worry.”

Ben sat down beside Beverly, and Bill poured everyone some more wine before sitting beside Mike. 

“This has been an interesting adventure that Richie made us go on, and I’m almost sad to see it over,” Ben said, “I mean, it was pretty great getting into his pranks.”

“It’s never over with Richie, don’t you worry,” Beverly said, and then swatted his arm. “Now, shhh! The show’s starting.”

***

About an hour later, after Richie had dragged out two orgasms from Eddie and then showered, they both left the bedroom, shocked to see their friends.

“Oh my fucking god, have you guys been here the entire time?” Eddie whispered, horrified. “I thought you would leave. Why did you stay? RIchie, why did they stay? Did you put them up to this?”

“No, this was not me, actually,” Richie said, narrowing his eyes at Beverly. She smiled and wiggled her fingers at him. “But I have a good guess of who it was.”

“You promised us dinner, remember?” Beverly said innocently. “I think you said something about Chinese? And a movie?”

“Did I?” Richie asked, shaking his head. He couldn’t be mad, Bev was too damn good. “Guess I better get on that, huh?”

“Please do, we’re starving. We’ve all been sitting here with nothing to do but listen to the ambiance for the last hour.”

Eddie went red. Richie smirked, and kissed his cheek, pinching his ass for good measure. “Sure, but you can’t say it wasn’t the best goddamn ambiance in the world.”

“I can, actually. Ben sounds much better.”

Richie’s jaw dropped, and he doubled over, howling in laughter. 

“Beverly!” Ben said, mortified. “Jesus, why would you-? I can’t believe-?”

“Bev, you are one of a kind and I love you,” Richie cried, wiping tears from his face. “I’m going to order the food, you deserve it for that alone.”

Later, when the food got there and they had gorged themselves, Eddie was slightly dozing on Richie’s shoulder. He was spent, and they weren’t really watching anything interesting. He would’ve loved some alone time with Richie - nothing sexual, just cuddling and maybe some kisses - but he was happy to be with his friends, anyway. 

“That was the last one, you know,” Richie murmured.

“Hm?” Eddie stirred. 

“That was the last thing I’ve got planned for you, baby. You made it.”

“You’re done?”

“Yeah. Thanks for being a good sport about it. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Richie. So, so much.”

But Eddie sat up, awake now. He smiled at Richie, gave him a sweet kiss

And started planning his revenge. 

  
  



	4. Drive-In Movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the final chapter of this slice of life, Eddie finally gets his revenge on a certain Richie Tozier.  
And boy, is it sweet.

Eddie was more than a little peeved over how casual Richie had been since game night.

It was like he did his three little gimmicks, and now it was all forgotten, tucked away neatly in the past, never to be mentioned again. He was furious! Richie deserved his just desserts, and Eddie had an excellent idea of when to serve it.

Cue Bill and Mike. The pair had invited Richie and Eddie on a double-date to the drive-in that had just opened up. They were showing Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, Richie was geeking out, and Eddie knew now was the time to strike. He connected with Bill and Mike about the details, and although they were more than a little reluctant to partake in any more of their sexcapades, they seemed to come around when Eddie promised it was the last one. He had taken them out to lunch to persuade them further.

“Fine, but no more after this one,” Mike said, shaking his head. He squeezed some ketchup beside his fries, and then shook his head again. “I mean it. There’s only so much constant Richie and Eddie action I can take, and I have reached my limit.”

“That’s fair,” Eddie couldn’t help but giggle. These past few days had been annoying to him, he couldn’t imagine what it was like for them. “Although, you guys did agree to help him, so… It’s more your fault than anything.”

“He made a compelling offer, you know how he is,” Bill sighed. He absently fiddled with a packet of sugar, shaking it to one end and then the other before tossing it back into the container. “Hard to deny the trashmouth when he’s hooked on something.”

“And as you know, he’s hooked on you big time,” Mike laughed.

Eddie just nodded, although he felt himself blush deeply. He really loved Richie, and Richie really loved him. They just both had funny ways of showing it sometimes.

“Right, so what do we need to do?” Bill asked. “I want to get this right so we don’t have to repeat it.”

“Oh, it’s super simple. Here’s what’s going to happen.”

After he outlined his plan, Bill and Mike both leaned back in their chairs, quiet. Eddie hooked the bottom of his milkshake with his pinky, bringing it closer and sipping absently at it. It was strawberry, and the sweetness of it was making him giddy. 

“Okay, I mean it’s a great idea, but that’s…” Bill began, but Mike spoke over him.

“You will be cleaning my car after this.” It was a statement, not a question. “And I don’t mean a once over with a little Lysol wipe. I mean a professional goddamn scrubbing. Then, and only then, can we work something out.”

“Of course!” Eddie didn’t hesitate, he could appreciate the want for a good cleaning, especially after what he had planned. “And let me just tell you again how great you guys are. Richie really needs a dose of his own medicine, otherwise this shit just gets to his head. You know?”

“Oh, we know,” Bill said, “let’s just hope it doesn’t go to your head. After all, if this were to become a regular occurrence…”

Eddie flashed him an innocent smile. “Never, Big Bill. Scouts honor!”

***

About an hour later, Eddie got back to the house. He heard Richie upstairs, working in the study. He tiptoed quietly pass him, and snuck into their bedroom. He’d hidden something in the back of their closet, in his  _ ugliest _ of fanny packs so he knew Richie wouldn’t touch it (crushed velvet, bedazzled with plastic, pink diamonds, and accented with a garish neon green trim. He’d bought that in a weird time in his life). He pulled the bag out, tucked it under his shirt, and scurried into the bathroom to rinse off. 

When Eddie got out of the shower, Richie was laying on the bed and casually scrolling through his phone. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a dark shirt, and his floral button up was neatly folded at the foot of their bed, his glasses sitting atop it. 

Eddie had bought three specific things for today. One would be immediately visible to Richie, the other two would be a tantalizing surprise for later. He ran a hand through his still-wet hair and said, “Hey, babe, how does this look?”

“Good, you always look good,” Richie grunted, but he didn’t look up. He mindlessly typed something out on his phone, muttering under his breath. 

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Richie.”

“What?” Richie asked. He peered around his phone, squinting. For a moment, he just looked at him, but then he immediately scrambled for his glasses. "Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, are you trying to fucking kill me?”

“No,” Eddie smiled innocently, which was a lie. A very bold lie. Eddie had recently purchased a pair of black running shorts, which he now wore with a dark grey v-neck. As Richie watched, he put his hands on his hips and stuck his ass out. “Honestly, I think it makes my butt look big.”

“Eddie, jesus  _ fuck _ ,” Richie said. “You should’ve warned me. You should’ve given me a two weeks notice. That is not fair to just drop on someone.”

“I wanted to surprise you. I think it’s much better that way, don’t you?”

Richie made a low noise, like a whine. He collapsed on the backboard of their bed, and ran a hand through his hair. “Eddie, baby. Please.”

“Please, what?” Eddie purred. He crawled onto the bed and then sat on Richie’s lap. Richie wasted no time in grabbing Eddie’s face and pulling him down for a rough kiss. “Ooh, someone is feeling antsy. What’s got you worked up?”

“You in these little fucking shorts, they leave nothing to the imagination,” Richie groaned; his hands wandered restlessly, up Eddie’s chest and down his thighs, his  _ bare _ thighs, until finally settling on his waist, and squeezing. “Eddie, oh baby, can I rough you up a little? Just a little?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“So much, Eds, so so much.”

“Uh huh. No.”

“No?” Richie blinked in disbelief. “Did you just say no?”

“I did,” Eddie said, a little surprised at his own boldness. He reached between his thighs, and worked at the button on Richie’s jeans. “I’ll tell you what you can do, though. Lay down and take it.”

Richie brought a hand to his mouth, covering his dropped jaw. What the hell had gotten into Eddie? “Lay down and…? Baby boy, I’m gonna pass out. I think I’m genuinely gonna pass out.” 

“Mhm. Shut up.”  _ Before I chicken out. _ Eddie pulled down Richie’s pants to his knees. He took almost all of Richie in at once, and Richie suddenly discovered what Nirvana was and exactly how it felt. He was seconds away from losing himself in total bliss, when he stray thought suddenly nagged at him.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, this is totally a trap, isn’t it?” Richie asked. Eddie pulled off of his dick with an indulgent lick, and gave Richie a perfectly practiced frown.

“What do you mean? Trap? I’m just blowing you, baby. Aren’t you enjoying it?”

“I  _ am  _ enjoying it, that’s the problem,” Richie said, shifting his hips away from Eddie’s surprisingly dangerous mouth. “And, if you have taken a page out of my book, you won’t finish it and make me keep this fucking boner for the rest of the night. But that means you’ll be doing… stuff… during the movie, and that’s unacceptable. You can’t ruin the integrity of Indiana Jones like that!”

“‘Ruin the integrity of Indiana Jones’,” Eddie repeated. He forced himself to frown deeper at Richie, but inside he was smiling. This was exactly what he wanted Richie to do.

“Yes, exactly! So, leave me alone. Don’t get anywhere near me with that filthy mouth of yours, and leave all sexual advances until  _ after  _ the movie.”

Eddie sat back on his haunches, head tilted. “So, instead of letting me blow you right now, you’re going to go to the movie… like this..?”

Richie, who was only just beginning to realize the folly of his mistake, felt the need to stand his ground in the corner he’d backed himself into. “Uh. Yeah. Absolutely.”

“Well, that’s fine, anyway. If you don’t want it, I don’t want to give it to you. You’ll change your mind soon enough.” Eddie hummed. He gave Richie a wicked little smile, and suddenly he felt like he made a mistake.

“Actually, Eddie, I think I changed my mind…”

A car honked its horn. Eddie peeked outside the window and mentally cheered. There was Mike, right on time. His plan was working perfectly. 

“Too late, baby,” Eddie shrugged, “better hurry. Don’t want to be late to the movie and ruin the integrity of Indiana Jones.”

Richie, again, felt like he had made a mistake. 

But he followed Eddie outside, shoving his hands into his pockets, wishing more than anything he’d just let Eddie give him the damn blowjob. Eddie was chatting with Bill; he was leaning against the car door, ass stuck out and shaking in low and slow circles.

God  _ damn! _

Richie tried his best to think un-horny thoughts and get a handle on the whole boner situation, but it was impossible when he was looking at  _ that _ . Eddie turned to look over his shoulder, absolutely devouring Richie with his eyes, and gave him a little smile that made Richie see stars. 

This was going to be a very long night.

***

It was funny, even though Eddie was the one with the bare thighs, Richie’s were the ones receiving all the attention. From the moment the car had driven off, Eddie was giving him his undivided attention; touching his thighs, kissing that sensitive spot on his neck, whispering absolutely  _ lewd _ things. 

Richie was going batshit. Batshit! He realized, too late, that  _ not  _ letting Eddie blow him was  _ exactly  _ what Eddie had wanted. The king of pranks had played himself. Oh, the irony! He had no idea how this night was going to play out. A part of him wanted to fight against Eddie - if only to spare poor Indy,  _ he  _ hadn’t done anything wrong. But another part, a much larger and more demanding part, knew that he was giving into Eddie, and fast. Did he deserve it? Oh, totally. Didn’t mean he still couldn’t like it, though. 

To be fair, Eddie  _ had  _ said he would get his revenge, but he hadn’t honestly been expecting it.

Mike took his sweet time getting to the drive-in. A ten minute drive suddenly became twenty minutes, and it wasn’t the fucking traffic. Richie knew that Eddie must’ve planned this beforehand, and although he could begrudgingly admit that it was pretty damn clever, he couldn’t fully appreciate it whilst in the middle of the situation. Eddie’s hands were wandering further up his legs, and Richie was feeling his resolve crumble fast.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie…”

“I know, I know, I know.” There was a smile on his voice though, as he pressed long and loving kisses along Richie’s shoulder. When the drive-in finally came into view, it wasn’t soon enough.

As Mike rattled his truck into a spot, in the back corner and away from the general audience, Eddie felt electricity crackle up his spine. He was doing this. He was really doing this. He put a hand on Richie’s thigh and squeezed; Richie pressed his lips to Eddie’s ear, panted once, maybe twice, and then let out a low-pitched whine that made Eddie see stars. Dizzy with glee - and maybe now he was starting to understand why Richie got such a kick out of this, it  _ did  _ feel good - he whipped his head around and kissed him, hard. 

Eddie could feel Richie melt into the kiss, feel him absolutely fawn over this simple gesture, and if Mike and Bill hadn’t still been in the car he would’ve taken Richie right then and there. As it were, he was having a hard enough time keeping Richie off of him. Behind his glasses, his eyes were glazed and wanton.  At some point, and Eddie was pretty certain it had been as the drive-in had come into view, Richie’s resistance had pretty much stopped altogether. Once the car was fully parked, he was even pushing Eddie’s hands up further and faster.

_ Indiana Jones’ integrity, my ass, _ he thought, suddenly and fiercely. Richie had waited this long, he could wait awhile longer. To prove this point, he gave Richie a final kiss and then completely left him alone. No touches, no kisses, and certainly not any lewd words. He simply scooted as far over from Richie as he could, and ignored him. 

Richie tried to get Eddie’s attention back. He poked him, shook him, cozied up to his side and kissed his neck. Eddie didn’t even give him a glance. The sudden shift in emotion left Richie reeling, and paradoxically, hornier.

Obviously, Eddie wasn’t going to give him anything. This was so much worse than what he originally thought Eddie would do. Eddie was a little shit at the best of times, but he  _ never  _ thought him to be cruel. Richie tried once more to get his attention. “Eddie, baby boy, please give me a little loving,” he barely breathed. 

Eddie gave Richie a cheerful little smile, and whispered back, “Shh. You’re ruining the integrity of Indiana Jones.”

Richie collapsed back on his seat. Well, fuck. That wasn’t good. He tried to focus on the movie, but it just wasn’t doing it for him. Which also sucked, because he loved Indiana Jones. After awhile, he tried to inconspicuously arrange his hands in his lap to give himself some friction, and  _ that _ got Eddie’s attention.

Eddie didn’t even look away from the movie screen. He swatted Richie’s hands, hard, and said, “Don’t, or you’ll get nothing.”

Richie, despite himself, felt a thrill go up his spine. He tried to give Eddie a cheeky grin, but Eddie wasn’t looking and Richie didn’t have the cheekiness in him anyway.

It was starting to look like he had to wait Eddie out.

***

Right around the point that Belloq was abandoning Indy and Marion inside the tomb, Bill muttered something about checking out the snack shack. About five minutes later, Mike apologized and said he needed to take a leak.

They were alone.

“Eddie,” Richie whined. 

“Shh.” Eddie very casually leaned forward and locked the doors. “Take your pants off and lie down as flat as you can. We have fifteen minutes, and I’d like to make the most of it.”

Richie's movements were spastic, but he listened to what Eddie asked of him. “What are you doing? What are  _ we  _ doing?”

“ _ We  _ are doing nothing. Remember earlier? You're still lying down and taking it.  _ I’m  _ going to ride you, though. And I’ll make it good since we have,” he paused to look at the clock in the car, “fourteen minutes now. C’mon.”

Richie didn’t hesitate to lay down, his head and shoulders cocked at a weird angle against the door so his hips could lie flat. He was bound to get a god awful crook in his neck for this, but it was so fucking worth it. “Eddie, that isn’t enough time for me to open you up, and I’m not going in dry. I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Although I appreciate the sentiment, you don’t have to worry about that,” Eddie said dryly. He worked his shorts off and before he could say anything else, a desperate little noise choked out from beneath him.

“Are those Calvin Klein?” Richie whimpered, a trembling hand reaching out and hooking two fingers into the waistband. “Those are fucking… Eddie, when did you buy those?”

“Right around the same time I bought this.” Eddie shoved his Name Brand Underwear off, reached behind him, and pulled out…

Richie saw stars. There was a moment when he genuinely believed he would pass out. He could imagine Eddie in the shower, for surely that was the only time today that he’d been alone long enough to do that, slowly stretching himself open and working that… that  _ thing _ inside him. He could see his perfect face, his mouth dropping open in soundless cries, his eyes fluttering shut. “Let me get this straight. You bought  _ designer underwear  _ and a motherfucking  _ butt plug  _ just to torture me?”

“Not just to torture, I could’ve bought them for my own damn enjoyment and you just happened to be a perk,” Eddie said. “Now, please Richie. I really want to ride you, and we are running out of time. So, and I mean this nicely,  _ shut the fuck up. _ If you make a peep, I’ll stop.”

“Okay, baby, okay. I’ll be quiet. Not a word. Not a sound. Just please.  _ Please. _ I am begging you.  _ Begging you _ .”

Richie was babbling. At this point, he was saying anything and everything that would keep Eddie - his lovely boy, wearing Calvin Klein - from stopping. But it was the last thing he said that caught Eddie’s attention. 

“Begging, are we?” Eddie purred, smiling coyly. “How _ ever _ could I say no to that?” He lowered himself onto Richie’s cock, and Richie quickly brought one arm to his face, biting down on his forearm. The other hand held onto Eddie’s hip hard enough to bruise. Eddie leaned his head back, eyes sliding shut. “Good boy, that’s right. Just like that.”

THAT sent pleasure down his spine. Richie didn’t even realize he  _ had  _ a thing for praise, but those words - like honey dripping from Eddie’s lips - made him whine desperately. Eddie’s eyes flashed open, a hard warning in them. Richie nodded, hard and spastic, and bit harder on his arm. When he was certain that he wouldn’t make a sound, he slowly rolled his hips up, which made Eddie squeak.

“Y-yeah, keep doing that, I’m gonna meet you halfway.” 

Richie didn’t have enough mental capacity to understand what he meant by that, but he kept doing what he was doing. When Eddie braced his hands, one on the back window (and god, was he thankful that they were tinted), one on the passenger seat, and started lifting himself slightly and circling back down, Richie didn’t think he’d last. He’d make a sound, a sigh, a moan, something that’d make Eddie stop. He might’ve grunted, deep in his throat. He might’ve even moved his arm enough to whisper, reverently, “Eddie…”

But he didn’t stop.

Distantly, in the back of his mind, Eddie was aware that they had to wrap this up. Bill or Mike, or both of them, would be coming back soon and they had been explicit about Eddie being finished with whatever he had been planning. But, he was sinking just as fast as Richie was. This felt good, and not just the sex. Making Richie wait, until he was on the brink and desperate, felt really,  _ really _ good.

“Eddie… baby, ah!”

Eddie felt himself smile. Even though Richie just broke his rule, they both know damn well he wasn’t going to make him stop. He held onto the seat and the back window until he felt himself getting closer to the edge, and then his arms collapsed like jelly. “Richie, keep going.”

Richie obliged. The brisk air on the outside made the windows steam up, and Eddie could see his hand-print almost perfectly in the back window. It made him think of the sex scene in the Titanic, which, for whatever reason, set him off completely. He came all over Richie’s floral button up with a surprised cry, and Richie was not far behind him.

Eddie leaned down to kiss Richie, softly, lovingly. “I adore you.”

“No, I adore you. Christ, if I had known that all those pranks would’ve set you off like this, I would’ve done them ages ago. Goddamn, Eddie.”

“Hm. Well, if you enjoyed it that much, I’ll let you deal with your shirt dilemma. However to get rid of it without Bill or Mike seeing it?”

Richie snorted. The fucked out look in his eye was still shining, but some of his wits were at least coming back. “Hey, at least I’m not the one who’s got it all up their ass and nowhere to put it. That shit’s gonna be so uncomfortable in those fucking shorts.”

Eddie had the audacity to smile. “Good thing it’s not going in my shorts, then, huh?” 

_THE BUTT PLUG. _“Eddie, no. You’re not going to…?”  
He did. With a little bit of a groan, Eddie worked it back inside him and then maneuvered around Richie to get his clothes back on. “Better hurry, I think I see Bill coming.”

“Eddie, I don’t think I have ever hated you and loved you more than at this moment,” Richie grunted. He fixed his pants up, and eased his button up off. After a moment’s hesitation, he balled up the shirt and rolled down the window to through it into the back of the truck. He hoped it wouldn’t fly out when they drove back, but he also knew it couldn’t stay here.

“That’s a good idea,” Eddie muttered, and quickly rolled the rest of the windows down. “Let’s air out this hunk of junk, huh?”

“She is NOT a hunk of junk, asshole,” Mike said, scowling. “She is my pride and joy, and you will respect her.”

“Oh, I do respect her,” Eddie said, and maybe he was still riding his high because he added, quite cheekily, “I respected the hell out of her just now!”

Richie blushed deeply. “What’s shaking, Mike? How was… How was the bathroom?”

Mike glared at Richie, but said nothing as he slid into the driver’s seat. A minute later, Bill came back with an armful of snacks. He passed a couple waters to Richie and Eddie, and a bag of Cheetos from the vending machine. Him and Mike had a tub of popcorn, and when Richie opened his mouth to complain, Eddie silenced him with a finger. 

They both knew they did not deserve that popcorn.

***

They finished the movie in a semi-comfortable silence. Richie tucked himself into Eddie’s side, and was dozing almost immediately, drooling on Eddie’s shirt. Eddie had an arm around him, and kissed the top of his head. “I love you, Richie.”

Bill looked in the rear-view mirror, and shook his head. “Those two…”

“They’re done now, and that’s what matters,” Mike whispered back. He took Bill’s hand and squeezed it. “We made it through, ha.”

Bill laughed quietly. “Nah. Remember what Beverly said on game night? It’s never over with Richie, and it looks like Eddie is just as evil. If not somehow worse. There’ll be more.”

The movie was ending. The credits were rolling, and some cars were starting to pull out. Mike waited for the majority of them to leave before shifting his truck into gear. “And that’s all good and well, as long as it  _ doesn’t  _ happen in my truck.”

Bill laughed, a little harder than he meant to, and quickly covered his mouth. As tears leaked out from the corners of his eyes, Mike gave him a grudging smile. “It’s not that funny, and I mean it. Not in the truck.”

***

Back at their house, after both of them had showered, Richie and Eddie lay in bed, tangled within each other. Eddie was half-atop Richie, giving him long and loving kisses. Richie had his arms wrapped around Eddie’s waist, absolutely preening. 

“I love you,” Richie cooed, “I love you.”

“I love you more,” Eddie breathed back. “I love you so much more.”

They just had a funny way of showing it sometimes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends this little story. I hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it! Thank you for the comments and kudos, they make my day!  
I have more projects in the works, so if you liked this fic make sure to subscribe or follow my twitter @kingkaspbrak for updates!

**Author's Note:**

> Tags? What are tags? I have no idea how to use them.  
It's a little short, but I'm trying to flex that writing muscle again.  
Check out my twitter for updates! @kingkaspbrak  
Again, feedback is much appreciated.  
Thanks guys!


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